Tuesday, September 30, 2008

I have spent a good part of today trying to sort out the details of my story that began yesterday in The Heart of the Matter. In working on a conclusion to that post I've really struggled. The first part of my story is about me. The second part, which you have not read, is about God. In sorting through my story, I find myself stunned again by how often I think I've got it all figured out. Mistakes that I was certain were in the past have crept back into my life. The last thing I want to do is post a conclusion to a story that is disingenuous. That is to say, God pulled me up short today and I'm dealing with some conviction. Ergo, The Heart of the Matter, Part 2, is on the way, but not until God and I make our peace again.

In the meantime, without giving away the pieces of the puzzle, I'd like you to take something in. Because of where I've come from, this is my favorite song. Whenever I hear it the faces of people who have come in and out of my life flood my mind. For some of those people, due to circumstances that had nothing to do with me, their stories ended abruptly, painfully and with casualties.

Like a calloused hand that becomes oblivious to a splinter, infection can spread all the same, threatening the loss of the limb. Unforgiveness, though not a little thing, callouses our hearts the same way. To me it's far better to forgive a wrong, maybe even before it happens, so that life isn't choked away any sooner than need be. The singer, Don Henley, eludes to this idea when he says, "This song took 42 years to write, but only 4 minutes to sing." I love that.

Monday, September 29, 2008

(The following story is something I have wanted to share with SFL readers since the launch of this site. To me, it is the most important thing you could ever know about me. It will be divided into parts over the next day or so. This is part one of my story.)

I haven't always been the pillar of decorum and maturity you know me to be. Once, when I was 6, the little girl down the street told me the other moms in the neighborhood didn't like my mom. In my mind I imagined grabbing her by her perfect ponytails and feeding her a mouth full of crabgrass. But I refrained. Instead, I clocked her square in the jaw. My eyes stung with hot tears as I jumped on my Huffy Sweet Thunder, riding the winds of hurt and furry all the way home. I couldn't let my mom go down that way - not by some uppity, skinny kids in a monogrammed sweater. To this day, not that it would matter now, I have never told my mom the real reason why I clobbered Little Miss Ralph Lauren and her pigtails of perfection. But to be sure, she never said a bad word about my mom after that.

You see, I didn't need a little girl down the street to tell me one of my parents wasn't perfect. I already knew that for myself. Even at 6, the whisper-shouting between them after I went to bed kept me from sleep more nights than I cared to acknowledge. Though not technically divorced, as a kid, I didn't need legal jargon to define what was happening. Kids know that divorce isn't always a matter of paperwork, it's a matter of the heart. And my heart was broken, over and over, in so many ways, until it didn't really look like a heart at all anymore. I was the angry little girl whose chest ached from stifiling so many disappointments.

So there we were, perfect house, pretty family. The facade was enchanting. But like all fairy tales, it faded, yet the words "happily ever after" never came. You know that feeling when a room is full of people yet you're still all alone? I lived like that every day growing up. Fear and isolation were my companions. Even into my teen years I kept waiting for a knight in shining armor to rescue me from dank cave that I called my home. Maybe the screaming kept him away. No matter. He never came.

There are too many details to share, but believe me, my demons were real. (Please let me clarify that I was never physically abused. But the emotional abuse was staggering.) Though I came to know Christ at 12, I didn't see how He could do anything but keep me alive through my suffering. Know that I'm not belittling what God can do in any painful situation. I've seen some real miracles in broken families. All I'm saying is this wasn't my experience.

As I'm sure you can imagine I packed a big ol' bag of resentment and took it with me when I left my parent's home. Not only did I hold onto the pain caused by my circumstance, I had nearly every offense - and there were many - categorized, alphabetized, and locked and loaded. My hate gun was full and I was ready to land blast my parents. I relished fantasies of getting back at them. What I hadn't considered was that my gun might backfire.

I was proud of the fact that I had come through such adverse circumstances and was so fantastic in spite of it. My parents weren't Believers, but I was, and it gave me leverage. People loved hearing my testimony - how God raised me up from the ashes to save me and make me better than them. The unspoken truth was that I loved to tell people what I had come from; it shown a floodlight on the sinful, bad, bad people who were lucky enough to be my parents. I became a glutton, feasting on the praise given to me by people who literally embraced me, saying, "God will pay them back for what they did to you." I lapped it up like a starving animal. Ironically, the pain only intensified, and the hunger nearly ate me alive.

Now granted, my life up to this point (about my early 20s) was nasty. But the filth of it became my badge of honor. The more I shared my story the more rigorously I catalogued every new hurt, gesture, or sideways look my parents sent my way. So, while I was out being everybody's super Christian rock star, the more distance and judgement I placed between them and me. It took on a life of its own. Soon, I couldn't separate the sensationalism from the reality of this one fact: no matter what mess they'd made, these were my parents, they were going to hell and I was reveling in it. "Damn it. They deserve it." And somehow that perverted thinking became my gospel.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

This world makes my soul ache. The fact that I was made for eternity but born into a world of sin is like being captured in a net. Even when circumstances in my life are stable the ache is still there, reminding me that eternity is just a whisper away. For me, the crescendo of following Christ reaches its culmination the split second I experience eternal life without sin. But for now, the ache remains. I'm telling you, there's not one thing authentic in me other than the reality of my failures. And while we all may share this same ache, there is one person who could articulate it better than anyone I know. That person is Rich Mullins.

I see a huge shift in the modern church culture to make following Christ a complicated marriage of philosophy and mysticism. And being authentic is key. Personally, I don't think "authenticity" is something you can cook up at a moment's notice, it's something you just are, or you aren't. I've seen stuff flood some "Christian" venues that's downright contrived: trendy, popular, and straying from Scripture in order to be palatable. Rich Mullins, as a person and an artist, stood in stark contrast to these views. What I like so much about him was that what you saw was what you got, He loved Jesus, spot on. There were people who didn't get him, but for those of us who did, even though we never met him, he was one of our best friends.

It is the gut-level sincerity of people like Rich Mullins that I try to find in myself. And as of today, I'm still searching. Hidden beneath layers of spiritual laziness, yelling at my kids, not making the bed every day, being more concerned about the next words I'll type than whether or not I've looked at any Scripture today, the same Truth that held to Rich Mullins is holding onto me. God knows, I'm not always holding onto it; I'm rebellious and would run from God lest my favorite TV show be interrupted. I care too much about appearances and not enough about other people to care sometimes. It's the pain of my sin that beats me against the musty, hateful rock of the threshing floor again and again. (And this is just my confession, when I think of the repentance that needs to take place it's appalling.)

Rich and I had a lot in common. We both have questions of theology and suffering that go unanswered because the answers are beyond what a human mind can grasp. And whether or not you like his folksy, hammer-dulcimer, torn up jeans, calloused foot music, you have to admit, the man seemed to understand what most of us only wish we could. I think I have a hunch as to why.

His home was a old trailer on an Indian reservation where he dedicated his life to teaching music to Navajo children. After his death his friends went there to gather his personal effects. Upon entering they found little more than a mattress. He traveled light because he knew that's exactly what he was doing: traveling, passing through. He was not made for this world and he knew it; he lived it.

In a career that was marked with tremendous financial success and fame, Rich was incredibly uncomfortable with it all. At the Dove awards he left his seat at the dinner following the ceremony and donned a waiter's hat and began serving dinner to other guests. Many thought he was joking around, but I doubt it. From what I've heard of him, limelight made his eyes squint. He needed to serve because that's what made Jesus shine, so that's what he did. He was said to be flaky, and maybe that's because he simply wasn't tied down. In his entire career he never knew the extent of his earnings. His quarterly checks from record labels were sent to the board of elders at his small home church. He asked them to pay him the median salary of a typical US worker, about $24,600 annually. The rest was given away to missions and charitable organizations or put into his retirement. Rich said, "If I knew how much I made it might make giving the rest away all that much harder."

When he died I cried for a long time. I wasn't grieving Rich Mullins, I was grieving for myself. The pain was about losing a beatnik poet who never met me but understood the ache of my human condition - my sin and misconceptions of God. His music was the salve that soothed these wounds by reminding me that from the moment time began, the God of the Universe, the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, had a plan for me. By putting Scripture, angst, sweat, and eternity to music he was an arrow pointing toward heaven.

Rich Mullins was far from perfect. But for me, I'll take the introspective search for The Real Jesus Christ over contrived authenticity on any given day.

Rich died 11 years ago this month. He was riding in an open jeep when fate stepped in. Then instantly, he was gone, straight to the arms of the Jesus he spent his life chasing. If I could tell Rich anything it would be to thank him. But my guess is, at this point, he really doesn't care.

This song, "Hard To Get", was recorded just days before his death. He purchased a cheap tape recorder from K-Mart, ergo the raw recording. I can't sing this song without being reminded of my soul's ache, but I am comforted knowing the ache won't last forever. I hope it does the same for you.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Every school needs a good fight song. Well, maybe not necessarially a good one. Take The University of Tennessee, The Vols, if you will. I've got nothing against the Vols, so keep that in mind. Their fight song is "Rocky Top". Let's take a gander at one of the verses, shall we?...

Folks say corn won't grow on Rocky TopSoil's too rocky by farThat's why all the folks on Rocky TopGet their corn from a jar

Let's unpack this. It won't be hard. UT, God love 'em, is essentially telling the other team, "Dudes! We're drunk. And not even on the top shelf stuff they serve up at frat parties. No, we're drunk on fermented grain that some sweaty, toothless man named Cousin Grandpa cooked up in a rusted out steel drum. You thought you'd kick our butts at this football game today just because we're inbred and less coordinated? Well, we've got news for you! We're inbred AND plastered. So take that and punt it!"

It just seems like a good idea that the fight song should represent the strengths of the school. Or, at least that's my philosophy behind choosing a fight song for SFLBC. An esteemed reader, Nicole, suggested the following video. And I'm pleased to announce the Stacy From Louisville Bible College Fight Song, "Baby Got Book".

Remember, (now say it with me), "At SFLBC we do have standards. We just forgot where we put them."

As you may know, from yesterday's post, I have started my own Bible College, Stacy From Louisville Bible College. Established in 2008, SFLBC seeks to equip future and current pastors and laypeople with the sarcasm necessary to survive church culture. Being in its infancy, I make up the board of directors, the teaching staff, and, of course, I'm the president. If you don't like it, go to real Bible college and see if you get a better deal. Go on. I dare you. Or, if you trust me enough to take my word for it, you can take that $9,000 a year and put it back in your pocket, after purchasing my birthday gift, of course. SFLBC is completely non-profit and free to all who choose to sit under my tutelage. (That's right, I said tutelage. I'm not as unqualified for this position as you thought!)

Samantha, a potential SFLBC applicant, was concerned that my fine institution frowned upon dancing. To clear things up, I did not say "no dancing". (Samantha, I would hope you fill out your application with more attention to detail.) I said, for the record:

1) No Mailman/Cop dancing as seen in yesterday's video.2) No unitard dancing unless it's for ministry purposes.3) No premarital sex (which is a different issue all together, but still.)

It goes without saying you will have an entire semester of interpretive dance. We supply super-flowing, consecrated ribbons, you supply the passion for socially awkward, ballet-like ministry at the mall. In front of Chick-Fil-A, of course. During that semester there will also be a class on the proper etiquette for wedding dancing, an excerpt of which appears below.

If any of you have further questions concerning the SFLBC policies or rules, please comment below. I will do my best to answer your questions.

Watering Camels,

Stacy From LouisvilleSFLBC President"We do have standards. We just forgot where we put them."

Monday, September 22, 2008

Once, I dated a preaching major. For graduation he wanted a day timer so he could record his sins as they occurred. He wanted to make sure he was always on top of whether or not he was saved, cause (according to him) you just never know. I told him, "I'm pretty sure you're not saved in the first place." Surprisingly, we broke up soon after. It's been at least 15 years since that happened. He never calls or writes.

1 set of floaties for safety while baptizing, which is a danger often overlooked

2 packs of grape Kool Aid for making communion on the go (Now I realize there are some denominations that use red wine for communion. Trust me, I would have sent it but I don't have a multi-state liquor liscense. Yet...)

1 stack of mini post it notes - for recording sins throughout the day so that you don't forget to repent

1 pack of pantyhose

1 lip gloss with a key chain that reads, "I heart Boys", signifying that if you were a Bible College chick trying to land a preacher you'd be more than happy to try your best to birth him some sons so they can go off to Bible College, become preachers, and make the family proud by wearing the same suits to class dear ol' dad wore 20 some years ago

1 pack of post it notes for writing down your sins, like my former preacher pal

That's right, folks, I'm dangerous when it comes to puff paint. Also, notice that I have started the official Stacy From Louisville Bible College. Surely the great thinkers of all Christendom will flock. I can't guarantee you'll be accepted, but if you'd like to apply please - in 3,000 words or less - leave a comment that tells me why you might be worthy to attend such a prestigious institution. Remember, at SFL I do have standards. I just forgot where I put them.

And here's a little extra somethin'-somethin' to thank all of you for being such a good blog audience. I think I went to school with the mailman, but I can't be sure.

We all know going out to eat is super expensive, especially when you consider most kids meals cost $5 or more. If you've got more than one child it adds up fast. But what if you were able to eat out at restaruants where kids eat free?

I love this site because it's a FREE service with a huge database for tons of restaurants all over the U.S. where kids eat for free or for $1 or less! Awesome! And when you travel and have to eat out you can use your mobile phone (www.kidseat4free.com/mobile) and find restaurants no matter where you are.

Bookmark it into your computer. Program it into your mobile device. I guarantee, you'll be glad you did.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Jon Acuff, author of Stuff Christians Like, let me rock his blog yesterday. His site gets about 3.4 gazillion hits a day, making it slightly more popular than SFL, but that's fine with me. If you've been reading SCL for any length of time you know that awesomeness rains down like bazooka gum from a pinata. That's right, he's the Sultan of Sarcasm. Given his rock star status it's really cool for a chick (who graduated single from Bible college!) like me to be invited to post while he is out of town. It was a blast. Thanks Jon. If you didn't catch it surf my link back to SCL and enjoy.

On another note, Jon is the key note speaker today (Friday) at Ministrycom08. He's speaking on the topic "Storytelling". On his site, Jon asked for prayers for what he's sharing and that his head won't swell too much from all the hype. So, Stacy From Louisville readers, since we're an unofficialspin off of SCL, let's remember to pray for him today. He's getting a chance to share what's going on in his blog's journey and he's getting some computer-free God time while he's away. Prayers for him and his family would mean so much!

In honor of the SCL readers who were so darn nice to me yesterday, and to Jon who was crazy enough to bail me out of the comments section on SCL for just one spectacular day, I give you...

SFL's Ode to Stuff Christians Like(ahem....)

Stuff Christians LikeI heart you so muchYou taught Christians how to side hugSo crotches don't touch

Sometimes it's easy to pretend that the people in the Bible weren't real people like you and me. It's convenient to think the characters of Scripture a far removed, set apart or untouchable. We see them as heroes, which most of them are. But most of them stumbled their way down the path of faith. While I've always tried to think of the people of God's Word as everyday folks, there's a concept that never occurred to me, until now: Bible pick up lines.

Yes, I'm serious (well, not really, but I am medicated so I'm not dangerous). Great men and women of the Bible using their mountain top encounters with God....to pick up chicks, or dudes as the case may be. Now I don't know if there were things like Eharmony or "Blind Date" (the skanky version of "The Dating Game") back in Galilee, or if they were more into speed dating or what, but I know this for sure: No matter who you are, you only get one chance to make a first impression.

So without further ado, here's my list of pick up lines from the Bible...

Adam, to Eve: You're the most beautiful girl in the world.

Eve, to Adam: Not if you were the last guy on Earth.

Noah: Darlin' I can make it rain.

Jacob: I wasn't always a two timer.

Moses: I'd walk through water for you.

Rahab: I don't hang scarlet thread in my window for just anybody, you know.

Well, hey! Did you venture here from Stuff Christians Like? I'm glad you stopped by! Here are some highlights from my site thus far. Have fun!

Women's Bible Study: A Quiz Are you of the firm belief that Holiday sequin sweaters and quilted Bible covers are frightening? Are you convinced that not near enough women's ministry events serve wine coolers? This is the post for you.

Good Taste, Pigs Feet & 1-888-RU-My-DAD? - Come see what happens when we go grocery shopping in Kentucky. I'll warn you - it's funny. If you're going to pee your pants, you'll have to go outside. This is Kentucky. We only have running water every other day.

And since you're here, why not add your name to the list of super cool people who rock my blog? We have a great time. So come join the party. As you read, remember, I do have standards. It's just that I forgot where I put them.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

SFL has lots of readers in SE Texas & I care about what is happening to you. If you are from the HOUSTON/GALVISTON area and are able to get Internet access, I would love it if you would update me as to how things are going for you. You can leave a comment or send a personal e-mail. Know that if you send an e-mail I will not publish what you say; personal mail is treated as such. Know that you are being prayed for and are not forgotten. If there is anything Stacy From Louisville readers can do, beyond prayer, to help with relief efforts, please let me know.

1) I will not be posting on SCL on Wednesday. I will be posting on THURSDAY. I thought I would step in and save you some grief. I can't imagine the rioting and looting that might ensue if you went over to SCL looking for me and I wasn't there. Imagine the disappointment for Idaho, only in it's infancy on this site. Idaho, let me tell you what everyone who reads my site regularly already knows: a) I need therapy for narcissism and 2) I don't lie to my readers, ever.

But in light of the confusion I'd like to make it up to you....

2) A CONTEST!A CONTEST!!A CONTEST!!! And right on the heels of "The Trash Can of Terrific"! (Which really ended up being a "Pencil Cup of Crap". But, don't tell the contest winners. I'm pretty sure they don't have their gift yet, but only because it's still sitting on my kitchen counter...) Since it's fairly obvious that Jon Acuff has gone utterly postal and decided to let you-know-who post on his site I think we need to have a contest. All you have to do is guess what topic I'm writing about for his site on Thursday. I will watch the comments for this post from now until Thursday, 12 a.m. on the West Coast. You may ask me "yes" or "no" questions to help narrow down the topic. The 3 people who either guess the topic or guess closest will win. For example, imagine you ask, "Is the topic related to missions?" (which it's not but play along) and I say "yes", that's not enough to win. You have to break it down, piece by piece..."Is it about ethnic food?" Yes. "Is it about fried Gopher?" No. "Is it about getting sick?" Yes. "Is it about getting a parasite on a mission trip?" YES!! YOU WIN!! The first 3 people who guess the right answer will win, based on the time their correct answer was posted to blogger.

I can't reveal what you will win because it is directly related to the post topic. I know that's risky but since when don't you like free stuff?

So here we go... You've got a day and a half starting NOW.... Let the questions begin!!!!!

The remnants of Hurricane Ike passed right through Louisville with 80 mph winds. There are over 200,000 homes in Louisville without power since Sunday. There is more damage to the city than in over 30 years of tornadoes. Businesses are closed, gas stations are out of gas, street lights don't work, schools are closed. Luckily, we still have power and no trees down in our yard, which separates us from most.The city needs help, especially since we sent many relief workers to New Orleans and the Houston area. We had 13 friends over to our house for dinner and a cell phone/laptop charging party last night, which was fun.

I'll post again later today so check back then. I got some crazy that's ready to hit the screen but I gotta go be mom first - schools are closed for the week! (PRAY!) Readers, I love you for how you support my site. You haven't been forgotten!!!

Before I get my son out of time out I'll let you in on a secret. Jon Acuff of Stuff Christians Like is going out of town Wednesday. Guess who's doing a guest blog on his site? Come on! Guess! I know who it is but I'm not going to tell. Let's just say that on Thursday I'll meet you at SCL and we'll see what happens.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

A couple of people from Idaho have visited me, but I don't know who. Well, I would love to personally welcome you to Stacy From Louisville. We have a grand old time nearly once a week ranting and raving. If you leave your name and tell me your city in Idaho I'll send you a very fantastic gift. Really, when was the last time your computer hugged you? I say it's about time you got the recognition you deserve.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

My BFF from Arizona, Lady Arbonne, thinks I sold my soul to The Sticks when I moved to Kentucky. She makes jokes about the still in our back yard and wonders which days of the week we have electricity. Oh, how she mocks me. But don't hate on Lady Arbonne. Yes, she may be an elitist with her golden, diamond studded cactus in her back yard, but let's be frank. It's not really a back yard, it's a desert. What's more, I know for a fact that lots of people in Arizona wish they had a little Bluegrass from time to time. Why else would they spray paint their graveled front yards green? I'm not making it up. This just proves that no matter where you go bad taste is no respecter of geography.

It's true, I may live in a state once known more for inbreeding than horse breeding, but still, Louisville is a nice place to live. Louisville is smooshed right up against the border of Indiana. This makes Kentucky an even mixture of both Yankee and Confederate cultures. We're a bunch of Conyankates, if you will. Which only means we're confused about whether or not to root for Basketball or Nascar, listen to Chicago or LynardSkynard, highlight our mullet or tease it with a pick before we apply Aquanet. (Oh, if I had a dollar for every time I walked in to church only to hear, "Hey! The 80s called. They want their bangs back!") But I digress.

Like I said, bad taste is everywhere. It was never more evident than in a recent trip to the grocery store. I’ll have you know that though I have love for most major grocery store chains, my preference typically falls to stores named anything other than Wal-Mart. The smiley face roll-backs are nice, I’ll give them that. Yet the fact still remains: Wal-Mart is where all unrepentant produce goes when it dies. That’s right, Wal-Mart is vegetable hell, and then some.

When I went grocery shopping this weekend I saw some things that literally made me take a second look. And wouldn't you know it, I had my camera with me. So, let's see what Kentucky has to offer in terms of good taste...

1) Pigs Feet, Pork Hocks, and Pickled Eggs

Notice that prices are very reasonable for what I'm sure is cultural delicacy. Also notice that the shelves are partially empty, which means somebody named "Cousin Daddy" is having one screamin' tailgate party right about now.

2) Pigs Feet: A Closer Look

Upon closer inspection it seems that the Pigs Feet Value Pack seems to be oozing. (I think I feel throw up climbing up my throat so let's move on.)

3) Lard Needs No Refrigration!

For a mere $4.43 you can purchase 64 oz. of lard. Considering that vegetable oil only yields 48oz. and costs nearly $3 I think its pretty clear where the value lies. To tell the truth I'm not sure if lard has trans fats, but I am positive it has no carbs. Which is nice. If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me, "Stacy, what do you do with lard?" I'd have 75 whole cents in my pocket. Why only 75 cents? I spent the other 25 cents on an unwrapped jaw breaker from a guy selling them out of his pocket for the Lion's Club. (Fuzzy Navel is my favorite flavor to date.)

4) The Bubba Keg

As a general rule I try not to purchase anything named "Bubba". To me it's just poor form. (I appologize to you in advance if your name is Bubba. And I offer my condolences.) The Bubba Keg can be purchased for less than $5. In fantasy land, where unicorns and talking swans have pillow fights in poppy fields, we could pretend that this 52 oz. beauty is for holding beverages like Kool-Aide or even Matamucial. But unfortunately, we all know the Bubba Keg is meant for more sinful beverages: like beer or Satan Water, if you will. Though I'm not an expert on alcohol I happen to know that this keg will hold five whole beers. Let's say this together: "Wow. That's a lot of beer." So that means that with one full Bubba Keg some poor college student is only 52 completely blitzed ounces away from needing this.....

5) The DNA Paternity Test Collection Kit from IDENTIgene

That's right. Sold in my local gorcery store is Armageddon in a Box. For only $13.99 plus tax you have all you need to collect DNA. Send it off with a check for $119 flat and you have iron clad paternity test results. The back of the box is nice, too. It has two full paragraphs explaining why paternity is a good thing to determine. Especially if your chld is ugly. Come on, let's place blame where blame is do.

So there you have it. The best Louisville has to offer, from Pigs Feet to paternity. But I'm not too worried about the demise of my city. I used to live in Indianapolis, where you can find ample signs that read, "1-888-RU-MY-DAD?" I moved to Louisville where we're more refined. At we least keep our indescresion in a box, on the shelf, at the local grocery store, where God intended.

Here it is my friends, The Trash Can of Terrific, in all its glory. Notice the "Hottie" magnet thrown in to sweeten the whole deal. And there are more surprises awaiting you. Really makes you want to come up with another reason to love Idaho, doesn't it? Well, it's not too late! There's still time for you to post to your heart's content. I do have some bad news, though. When I went to the store to purchase the trash cans they were out and I had to settle for a pencil cup. But don't hate on me. God's favorite desk accessory, next to your senior picture of course, is a pencil cup. That's where He keeps His long feathery writing plume and parchment post its. Oh, and another thing, I decided to change the rules - instead of 2 prize levels, they're all top notch Trash Cans of Terrific! I'm just so excited that I had to share the love and go a little overboard with my first giveaway. I hit nearly every clearance bin Wal-Mart had to offer - only the best of the best for SFL readers!!!

Monday, September 8, 2008

Dear Stacy,I have insomnia. Please help! I find myself reading this blog and the SCL blog because I laugh, which is much better than the alternative of laying in bed and cursing. (I don't think Jesus is a big fan of my new potty-mouth habit! :) Help!Kelli

Dear Kelli,I too have wrestled with insomnia. Strangely, however, it didn't cause cursing. I already had that habit firmly established. I would recommend one of the following:

1) Enter Bible College. Nothing will put you to sleep faster than a mandatory chapel service or a Church History lecture given by a man who actually met Moses. Trust me, I know.

2) Invest in a large rubber mallet. When you can't sleep hit yourself in the head. There's nothing like a good concussion to send you off to dream land.

3) Have a baby.Ever notice how new moms are always begging for more sleep? They don't struggle with insomnia at all. Just think - from conception to giving birth (which is the equivalent of squeezing a watermelon through a paper towel tube) is enough to make anyone sleepy. Then the real fun begins. Changing diapers, teething, scrubbing spit up out of your clothes, being up all hours of the night. Trust me, you will no longer have any insomnia. HOWEVER, if you are not married this is very bad advice. In fact, if you're not married and you're reading this - no matter who you are - cinch up your chastity belt and go pray. Before you know it slick chested visions of Fabio might cause you to stumble. And not only would that be sinful, it would also be just plain gross.

4) Think up 4 crazy reasons why you love Idaho. For example, my sister, who is 37% funnier than I am said, "I like Idaho because it's not pronounced 'Imaho'." She makes a good point. But why do YOU love Idaho? You could win some kleenex with nuns printed on them that say, "God Bless You". And who doesn't love a consecrated tissue during cold and flu season??

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head were the synthetic vegans that rocked my childhood toy box. Like many children of the '70s I would sit for hours, probably picking my nose, while dressing the Mr. and Mrs. for various work and Happy Hour functions. It smelled all new and plasticity, a mixture that today would be called asbestos, PVC, and lead. Ahhhhhh. Catch a whiff of that retro spud love. It didn't matter that all the nose picking made me a bit of a preschool outcast. I had a plastic mustache to stick in the orifice of a fake root vegetable. I wanted for nothing. (And yes, I have always been just that spectacular.)But my love for potatoes didn't end there. For years I have been a faithful consumer of nearly any potato product. Fried, mashed, baked, Au gratin, roasted, curly fires, tots, twice baked, chips. In soups, stews, pot pies, casseroles, shepherd's pie. With roast beef, lamb chops, baked chicken, fish, and pickled bologna. Potatoes with cheese, sour cream, butter, garlic, bacon, onions, olive oil, gravy, ketchup, salt, pepper, paprika. Need I go on? Friends, it's a love affair that won't be ending anytime soon.

And where do the best potatoes come from? Well, Idaho, of course. I have it on good authority that at least one of my thigh bulges represents about 2.6 farmer's yearly income from potato sellage. So, accounting for all the bulges, you'd think the entire state would be grappling to thank me. But, sadly, no.

It has been an entire month of posts for this little ol' blog. In that entire month I have heard from every state in The Union, save one: Idaho. That's right, not even one person from Idaho has stopped by Stacy From Louisville. But why?

This blog has been read in some crazy awesome countries. I gotta give a shout out to Tanzania, Uruguay, Egypt, Japan, Hawaii, Australia (a country and a continent all wrapped into one Aboriginal package), Mexico, most of the Canadas, France, England, and Fiji. Hey guys! I heart you!!!

But still, no Idaho. What do I have to do to get some Idaho love? Well, having a contest is probably the best route, so here we go.

The Stacy From Louisville Idaho Love Contest, or The SFLILC 2008.

There will be 3 winners, and 2 different ways to win. Here they are:

1) Leave a comment on my site listing what you love most about Idaho. Even if you've never been there I must believe you can come up with something. You can list up to 4 things you love about Idaho, even if it's completely nutty or unfounded. For every reason you love Idaho - that isn't already mentioned in another comment - your name will go into a hat. On Friday of this week I will randomly draw one name from the hat and that person will win. This is prize level I.

2) Now for the big guns. If you know someone from Idaho, have them log onto this post at my site. All they have to say is, "Hi Stacy. I live in Idaho. (your user name here) told me to stop by." Then, your name and your friend's name go into a hat (on the same piece of paper) and I will randomly select one set. Once the names are selected I will publish a post of the results on Friday by noon, eastern standard time. To verify that said person is actually from Idaho I will ask him or her to send a street address (I won't publish the address!) so I can send the gift. This is prize level II.

So what do you win?

Prize levels I and II will both receive what I call "The Trash Can of Terrific". Yes, I know that sounds super unbelievable, but just wait till I tell you what's in it. The trash can itself is about 8 inches tall, and every winner gets one. (Extravagant, I know.) Levels I and II will receive a package of Kleenex that has a nun printed on each tissue with a caption that says, "God Bless You" and some wicked sarcastic Happy Bunny Stickers. Level II winners will also receive 3 whole packets of Kool-Aid, 2 Fisher-Price Little People, a snack size bag of potato chips, and some other mind blowingamazingness that's too good to mention.

You have until midnight, eastern standard time on Thursday to play. Once the names are selected I will publish a post of the results on Friday by noon, eastern standard time.

There is no such thing as a perfect marriage. It's easy to look at people around us and think they've got it all together - they hold hands, seem to be attentive, have people into their home...I could go on. But what happens behind closed doors, when the hand holding stops and the guests go home? The fact is, we just don't know. Though many couples look perfect there can be a storm brewing below the surface that could take the whole marriage down should the tides change.

When I wrote "Since When Are Men Stupid? (Confessions of a Not-So-Trophy Wife)" , I knew it would create discussion. What I didn't realize is that it would stir up serious pain. So far we're up to 16 comments with over 300 people having read the post to this point. So there are a few personal things I'd like to clarify and make some recommendations.

Know that the person writing to you is someone who has been there, done that. Though I am ashamed to admit it, there was a time I seriously contemplated divorce. The longer I contemplated it the worse my attitude became, and the more selfish I became. With my own hands I fed the beast of spite one minute, then ran to the corner to sharpen my weapons of hurt and insult the next. It's embarrassing to admit but it must be said: I was no husband's dream come true.

It took a craptastical amount of work to clean up the mess that we called our marriage. Admittedly, most of it was of my own doing, but we both fed the beast at times. We still struggle with those same habit patterns today, but there's one big difference: I know this is the marriage God wants for me, but it's up to me to be responsible for my attitude and actions.

If you have been walked on by a spouse and you read these words I'm sure they sting like pouring alcohol on a fresh wound. The compassion I carry in my heart for you is immense, and it comes from knowing what it's like to be the spouse that created havoc in her home. You may be wondering what happened to make me change the way I treated Dan. One word: conviction.

Dan could not do that for me.

The church could not do that for me.

Friends could not do that for me.

God would not let me go. I fought Him. I told Him to leave. I was always angry. But one day it was all too much and I couldn't take it anymore - being separated from God's will, that is.

Whatever your situation know that God is at work, even if you can't see it. Know it. Thank Him for it. You are not alone. God knows your pain better than you do. He knows your spouse better than you do. He knows what will make your marriage better.

In my limited ability to give advice I would suggest you seek out one or more of the following:

1) Find Biblically based Christian counseling. Even if your spouse refuses to go you can still go by yourself. You need someone to talk to who has seen the best and worst of marriage. Trust me, there is nothing you can tell a good Christian counselor that will shock him or her. Yes, it will be painful to recount your story but it's better to do it now instead of putting it off. Ask your counselor for strategies to unify you and your spouse. If your church does not offer a counseling program or if it's too close for comfort, try other congregations in your area.

2) Tell someone with a strong marriage about your struggle. Maybe there is an older couple in your church who has a strong marriage. Chances are there marriage is strong because they've gone through some trenches together. Again, it won't be easy to share your junk but it's better to do it now before things get worse.

3) Read Love & Respect by Emerson Eggerichs, or even better get the DVDs. This guy is straight forward and speaks marriage in a way that both men and women love what he has to say. He is insanely practical. I recommend the DVDs because your spouse may check out on reading a book but might be more willing to watch a DVD. I can't say enough about how powerful this marriage training is - Dan and I loved it. We recommend it to everyone. Click here to link to amazon.com for a review. Also, two insanely fabulous books, "For Women Only" and "For Men Only", are the best little marriage books you've probably never read. Shockingly eye-opening. Click here to jaunt over to Amazon and check them out, too. If you can't afford them, try your church or local library. These are 3 books that you will devour. (And as a side note, don't buy these books for your spouse and say, "Here. You need this." Buy it for yourself. You work on you, let God be God to your spouse.) If you can recommend other books please leave a comment.

4) Pray. It cannot be overstated the power of prayer. A hard prayer to pray is, "God help me to understand my spouse before I ask you to help him/her understand me." HARD PRAYER. But these things don't come easy and they are worth fighting for so pray.

5) Study God's Word. Join a Bible study, an accountability group, or read alone. When you are growing in Christ God will change you, regardless of your spouse. Let God's Word permeate your being and see what happens.

For now this is the best advice I can give. Something else you may want to keep in mind is God's plan for your life and marriage. It is completely possible to overcome any circumstances in Christ. How will God use you and your spouse in the future to be real with other struggling couples? It's possible, because all things are possible in Christ. That's right - ALL THINGS.

Whether you're on a high note in your marriage or swimming up stream I think there are two question every one of us can answer:

The worst thing you can do in a marriage is..... -OR- The best thing I've learned about making marriage work is.....

OK, I'll go first. "The worst thing you can do to your marriage is seperate yourself from God." & "The best thing I've learned about making marriage work is to remind myself that my spouse is not my worst enemy. Satan is."

Now it's your turn. I'm anxious to read what you have to say!

p.s. It is essential that I point out that I am not addressing situations where physical abuse of any kind is involved. In such cases, don't be a hero. Get help now. (Special thanks to Andrea who reminded me of this point.) Here's an article from "Today's Christian Woman" that speaks to this issue.

OK, maybe not exactly "technical" difficulties, but Momicla difficulties if you know what I mean. But there's hope for both of us on the horizon: Today is preschool, a day when the heavens open up and sing, giving me some time off. And a chance to catch up with you, and I have a lot to say today. So prepare yourself.

I swear if I get a phone call that someone is throwing up and needs to come home early I will move out. But not until after tomorrow, which is pay day.

If you say my son is adorable I might have to agree but take more meds all at the same time. I'm a walking quagmire, people.

While you're here why don't you add yourself to my list of "Really Cool People Who Rock My Blog"? You know I appreciate you. You're the only ones who don't tune me out after 2 sentences. Or maybe you do. Either way, it's a super fantastical way to get your mug out there for all the world to see. Who knew you were this famous???

It's not very technical. When you're done you can call your parents. Tell them the college tuition was well spent.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

There are many confused people roaming this great big world of ours. Some are lonely. Some are down and out. Some can't coordinate their clothes to save their souls. What's to become of mankind if there isn't an intervention? Someone who cares, a voice of reason for troubled times? You know, someone with a blog that's filled with sage wisdom, handed down from the great thinkers of our time. Aren't these the questions that keep you up at night?

Well, fret no more, my friend! Hope rises on the horizon in a big sunny ray of light called "Dear Stacy". That's right; I'm here to lend a manicured hand to those wrestling with the pressing inconsistencies of life.

Though I can't balance a checkbook, I am rather astute at offering advice. In fact I have a friend who told me that if she ever needed advice I'd be the last person she called. Which only proves the age old adage, "It's always in the last place you look." (And like I've alluded to before, "it's" all about me anyway.)

I'd like to demonstrate exactly what I mean. In the comments section of Stacy from Louisville I found two lost souls, each wandering a different path, desperate for counsel. Never mind that neither one really wanted my input. The fact is, God used this situation to hone my skills, as I'm sure you will soon see...

Dear Stacy,I'm swimming like crazy trying to escape the pull of the women's ministry vortex of death. I'm the part-time minister of music's wife (the music is part time, not the wife) in what to me is a tiny church. Kinda hard to avoid the questions (as to why I'm avoiding the meetings), but so far, so good. They meet during the Sunday evening service, so my "preference" hasn't been an issue. If they ever change the time, I'm toast. Why does women's ministry have to be so stinkin' sweet? Sometimes life is just plain stinkin'. And you bet I'm anonymous on this one.

Stacy from Louisville said...

Dear Anon,You're caught between a rock and a hard place. (I like to say that because it's so fresh and I'm cool like that) If you ever even think they're going to change the times (your women's group meets) I would immediately start volunteering somewhere. Even if you have to shake hands during flu season as an unpaid, unofficial Wal-Mart greeter, so be it. Then you can tell people, "I would love to go to women's group but I have been spending time with the elderly." Seriously, you will become a saint.

0-~,Stacy

Dear Stacy,I'm moving to Zambia (where it rains a LOT) and now I'm thinking about getting some of my own salvation pants ~ perhaps in bright, obnoxious pink with rhinestone accents?Hilarious post! Keep em’ coming!Gabriele

Gabriele,Since I am not sure why you are moving to Zambia I can't adequately advise you on fashion dos and don'ts. But lack of information has never stopped me from handing out my 2 cents so here you go. To make the pink salvation pants work I would suggest paring them with a form fitting black turtleneck and a silver rope choker necklace. Top it all off with lots of eyeliner and a black beret and voila! Sex in the City meets Salvation Pants in Zambia. It's like I always say, if you don't look good, Jesus don't look good.

0-~,Stacy

So there you have it. Two whole people whose lives were changed from my wisdom. Still have doubts? Look at it this way: Right now there is someone walking the streets of Zambia rockin’ some hot pink waist-high waiders and making a huge fashion statement. As I’m sure you know, there are some places in the world where they don’t take Americans seriously. I shudder to think what might have happened if I wouldn’t have intervened.

Now all this wisdom is available at your fingertips. I’m here to HELP YOU. Stuck in a quandary? Tell me about it. Confused by something in church culture? Let me help. Need a sermon illustration? I did go to Bible College, after all, which makes me a professional in this area too. Whatever your conundrum, concern, or controversy, I’ve got nothin’ but love for you. This is my calling, dear reader. (Yes, all one of you…) Dare I day it’s my life’s mission. All this and spoofing 80s lyrics wrapped in one penitent package. Who knew?

Just so you know, there is no charge for my services. I reject the notion that “You only get what you pay for”. Here at Stacy From Louisville, I like to say “The best things in life are free” (Excluding my Christmas gifts, of course.) So let me help you. Leave you question or comment. Much like an unofficial Wal-Mart greeter I know, you’ll be glad you did.

Depending on whether or not all 3 of you reading this today leave a question you’ll be seeing my answers in the form of an entire post in the days and weeks to come. Is that service or what? Now, should your situation be urgent, please let me know. Far be it from me to have you suffer needlessly. Oh, yes, you’re in good hands